Faith Matters: What I Learned from Hosting Interfaith Dialogue

I found that when students spoke about Christianity with people of other belief systems, they often reduced their faith to actions.

Melissa Kuipers is a writer and the Christian Reformed chaplain to Mohawk College in Hamilton, Ont.

What I Learned from Hosting Interfaith Dialogue

WHEN I WAS WORKING in campus ministry, my student leaders wanted to host an interfaith dialogue series. They wanted to learn about some of the other faiths represented at our secular university while also growing in their own. So we invited people into our chaplain’s office to discuss themes relating to worldview and religion. I tried to do all the necessary prep work. I advertised the event, chose topics that would relate to all faith groups, crafted questions to start the conversation, and set up guidelines for discussing our differences respectfully. But when the time came and we began to chat with our guests (some atheists, some Muslims, some Seventh-day Adventist), I realized one major oversight: I had not prepared the students in our ministry to explain the basics of their faith.

I found that when students spoke about Christianity with people of other belief systems, they often reduced their faith to actions: “Because we’re Christians, we don’t do ________.” Perhaps it’s easier to talk about concrete behaviors than complex theological concepts. It makes you vulnerable to say you believe in a man who rose from the dead. Maybe it’s more comfortable to describe the way we live than the things we believe (even though our beliefs inform the way we live). Perhaps when we’re nervous we revert to the technical aspects of our faith.

But our faith is not defined by the technical parts. Ours is not a religion of do’s and don’ts. It’s a faith defined by grace, love, and trust in an intimate, self-sacrificing, relational God who takes us as we are, who holds us as his children, who walks with us through life’s ups and downs. Peter instructs us to “(a)lways be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience” (1 Peter 3:15-16). While I was raised in a Christian Reformed subculture, I attended Pentecostal mission trips during my teenage years. We learned the ABC’s of evangelism, chanted phrases like “Repent, confess, believe, receive!” and memorized the sinner’s prayer. Then we took to the streets, where we proselytized strangers. As an adult I became critical of many aspects of this type of ministry. But one of the gifts I gained in those formative years was practice in communicating the joys of my friendship with God.

I no longer reference the ABC’s of Christianity when I talk about my faith. Each conversation looks quite different. I share why I still love Jesus. I describe faith as a mystery and yet a belief system that can handle our questions. I express my trust in a God who is love.

The Christian Reformed Church has a great resource for these types of conversations in Our World Belongs to God. This document can be used not only as a Sunday-morning reminder of the basics of our faith, but also as an effective resource for sharing our faith with others. I wish that, in preparation for our interfaith dialogue series, I had taken my students through Our World Belongs to God to remind us of the basics. I wish I had provided them with opportunities to practice discussing their faith with people who know little about it—not to provide canned and recitable answers, but rather so that when nervousness sets in they feel ready to authentically speak about the core of the faith that defines them.

1. How would you explain the basics of your Christian faith to someone who has never heard it?

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Our Rock City

A place of beauty and wonder. Stark contrasts and high drama. Secrets and mystery.

Sandy Mayle is a freelance writer. She has written for Discipleship Journal, Christian Courier, Just Between Us, and many other publications. She and her husband, Dave, attend First Alliance Church in Erie, Penn. PANAMA ROCKS in southwestern New York are a fascinating geological “rock city” made up of large, glacier-cut rock formations. I’m there today. According to my map, I’ll descend to follow the base of the rocks and then return via a hairpin turn to ascend along the top of the boulders.

I enter a world of contrasts: rugged stone and tender ferns, pitch-dark tunnels and sun-dappled surfaces, heady heights and plunging depths. I’m awed by massive boulders said to be millions of years old, by vivid greens of moss and leaf, by ropy tree roots splaying down huge rock faces.

There’s a wild history here. “During the mid-1800s,” according to the rock city’s website, “a gang of counterfeiters used the rock area to mint and conceal their spurious coin.” A historical note on site informs hikers that “in the 1800s a bank carriage was robbed in Panama, and local folklore says that the stolen gold was hidden in Panama Rocks.” Since then, many have combed this place for the abandoned loot.

Yes, a place of beauty and wonder. Stark contrasts and high drama. Secrets and mystery.

Just like the Word of God.

Another Rock City

When we trust Jesus for salvation, we are given a guide better than a map: the Holy Spirit.

With the Holy Spirit we enter the monumental Pentateuch with its five towering books, its rich history, its wild stories. We plunge into the darkness of Eden lost, weather the great flood, and trek Israel’s wilderness wanderings. Then we “amen” the psalmist’s alleluias, gaze up at the lofty prophecies of Isaiah, and scramble around the rocks of the minor prophets, often discovering longforgotten treasure.

Suddenly we’re climbing a hairpin curve to the New Testament, winding up through the four gigantic boulders of the gospels. A fresh wind stirs. We hear Emmanuel coo and the Messiah call. We breathe in the perfume from an alabaster jar and the essence of self-sacrifice in Gethsemane.

We witness a death—and a resurrection. And we have our treasure, our Savior.

But there is more!

There comes an ascension, and then a Pentecost—God in us!

We stand now on high ground indeed. God’s own self has drawn very near. The air is rare, the view heady. The Spirit, through apostles and epistles, offers lively hope pushing up through the drought of despair, perseverance splaying thick roots down the rock face of trial, promises looming solid and massive.

On we go until we’re atop Revelation with its triumph over darkness and death. Here, pure joy is set before us— forever life with our God.

We’re at the end of the book (though it doesn’t really end). With the Holy Spirit’s help, we’ve delved into deep truths. We’ve discovered Jesus, our treasure. And we’ve fallen in love with the beautiful and intriguing Word of God.

So we’ll keep coming back, ever clambering with fresh enthusiasm around and over and through the Word, rejoicing in it “as one who finds great treasure” (Ps. 119:162, NKJV), as one who seeks for gold and strikes it rich in our Rock City.